


One Clear Voice

by Owlet (shinetheway)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M, None - Freeform, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:25:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinetheway/pseuds/Owlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's musings on his relationship with Blair.<br/>This story is a sequel to A Clear Time, Clear Spoken Words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Clear Voice

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to dear wonderful virg, who betaed so wonderfully, and to my buddy mcvey.

## One Clear Voice

by Owlet

Author's webpage: <http://www.geocities.com/Hollywood/Studio/3603/senfic.html>

Author's disclaimer: Not mine. Never were. I do not own these characters and do not get paid. But I have great fun on this labor of love.

* * *

One Clear Voice by Owlet 

It's dark. Even to me, it's dark--cloudless night, new moon, nothing but starlight. Dark, but kind of pretty. We're on the beach. We're going to get eaten alive out here--I can hear the mosquitoes a mile away, homing in on the feel of warm fresh meat. Charming image, that. Better not share that particular tidbit with Blair. 

He's started talking, rambling, really, and his voice carries me. Rambling just like he always does, but somehow it sounds different now. Special. Funny how I never really noticed it before, but I can almost feel it, strong and supportive beneath me, and itself supported by the steady, never-faltering beat of his heart. 

These senses--I don't know if I'll ever understand them. Or accept them. But god, it's a wonder to experience them. The things I can sense, the things I can do, the things I can remember--it's a pure wonder. I'll never get used to that. 

I love to listen to his heart. Part of it's the wonder that I _can_ do this--you know, a "Look, Ma, I can hear his heartbeat!" kind of thing--but part of it is pure fundamental pleasure that the solid rhythm of it gives me. It must be what it was like to hear my mother's heartbeat when I was in the womb. Solid. Warm. Comforting. And always, always *there.* 

Huh. I wonder if I could really hear that? Or remember that? Maybe it's a Sentinel thing, remembering that kind of sensory stuff. I want to laugh. Better not mention _that_ to Sandburg, either--he'd have me doing regression-hypnosis to being a fetus. 

Ah, who am I kidding? If he wanted me to try and pull up repressed memories from when I was the Duke of Persia in another life, I'd bitch and moan and in maybe ten minutes--fifteen if it's an off day--guess who's going to be staring at the candles and listening to that voice earnestly telling me, "Relax, concentrate, try to remember"? 

Yep. Me. I am such a sucker when it comes to this guy. Boy, I can admit that rather easily, can't I? 

And speaking of suckers... 

Jesus. I think I'm surprised by that whole kiss-thing a few minutes ago, but I'm too damn shocked to tell, or maybe too elated. It feels like I've just suddenly discovered a need to breathe, and the air's been there the whole time already. 

Hah. Now I'm getting deep. And eloquent. Well, no time to change like the present. It's Sandburg's influence, of course--I couldn't even tell Carolyn what I wanted for my birthday, and now he's got me actually downright talkative. Well, comparitively, anyway. 

Well, at least *less silent,* anyway. 

He stops talking finally. I guess he ran out of things to say. But he doesn't look upset by that, just...content. That's it. He looks so damn content, like he could sit here with me forever and be completely happy. 

He's starting to kiss me now, but not my mouth. We can't reach that way--I've got him sitting in front of me, with him leaning back against me and my arm wrapped around his chest--so all he's got in range is my arm, and he's just licking it, mouthing it absently. It's like it's this completely unconscious form of pure affection, directed towards _me_ , and that makes me tingle. 

Actually, to say "tingle" is probably the understatement of the year--dizzy, fevered, and horny beyond belief would be more accurate, but I don't think I'm ready to tell him that. It feels to good just sitting here, feeling his warmth in front of me, smelling his scent like I've smelled it a million times before, but so much closer, so much stronger. It makes my head swim and my dick throb, and to tell the truth, I don't want to lose it yet, even if it's to move things up to the next level. I'm kind of enjoying the feeling of being too hard to see straight. It puts a wonderful kind of glow around everything, makes _him_ glow. 

I think I'm getting the hang of this whole "male lover" thing. Although--just out of curiousity-- how the _hell_ did that happen? No doubts, so freaking out? I'm 40 years old--how can I just shrug, say so casually, "Yeah, I'm in love with another guy, it's cool." I'm getting the hang of it? No lightning strikes? 

Huh. 

Well, if I can ask that, I guess I really _am_ getting the hang of it. 

Besides, even if I wasn't, I get the feeling Blair would take care of that pretty quick--damn, that feels good. He's all twisted around, moving up my shoulder and down my arm. It feels so good--and not just physically. It feels comforting. Soothing. 

I wonder if he'll ever know how much that means to me? It's not like I've had a hell of a lot of comfort in my life. And then along comes Blair, and I'm soaking it up like a sponge, like I'll die if he doesn't care, isn't there. 

Better not tell him _that_ , either. He'd freak--and I wouldn't blame him. But it's true. It's like I crave the comfort he offers. He gives me everything, and it just completely blows me away. I'm addicted. 

I'm glad I kissed him. 

I mean, it wasn't exactly a difficult decision to make. Blair is my best friend. He's my partner. I trust him. He's loyal as hell, honorable, and--contrairy to even his own opinion--more than capable of commitment. And even a straight guy would have to admit that he isn't at all badlooking. 

Kind of makes you wonder after a while, whether or not sleeping with someone like that is really such a big deal. 

Okay, I'm pretty much blowing it out of my ass, there--the idea of sleeping with another guy is a _huge_ frightening deal. But I think I can handle it. I think I can handle him. 

Hah. If he knew what kind of puns go on in my head, he'd be in Kazakstan before I could catch him. 

But hell, if the rest of it feels as good, as right, as what we just did, then I am _completely_ in favor of moving the relationship to another level. Not the _next_ level--this sure as hell isn't inevitable. But it's possible. It's feasable. It's very, very desirable. And...it feels right. Like coming home. Like he is home. 

It's almost enough to kill that last bit of uncertainty, of doubt, of...fear... 

*Ohhhhhh.* Do that again. Yeah, just...like...that... 

That does it. I'm a dead man. This man is going to kill me. 

And I'm not afraid. There's a voice in me that won't let me be afraid, not with Blair here, not with this night, not with any of it. He can do whatever his heart desires to me, and I'm not going to fight it. 

I can't wait. 

He's all that matters. 


End file.
